Prelude: This is the third instalment in my Diary Of My Miscarriage Series. This series was going to be the “Diary Of My Pregnancy” however, as we know, things don’t always turn out how we hope, do they? I began this series before we knew our baby was lost, and this is the first week when I really start to feel like something could potentially be wrong… And it was. These instalments from when I thought I was still pregnant are just as important to me as the miscarriage itself, and as such, I feel compelled to share them with you. Thank you for reading them x (more…)
Prelude: This is the second instalment in my Diary Of My Miscarriage Series. This series was going to be the “Diary Of My Pregnancy” however, as we know, things don’t always turn out how we hope, do they? I began this series before we knew our baby was lost, and they represent so much joy and hope for 0ur family. These instalments from when I was still pregnant are as important to me as the miscarriage itself, and as such, I feel compelled to share them with you. Thank you for reading them x (more…)
Prelude: This is the first instalment in my Diary Of My Miscarriage Series. This series was going to be the “Diary Of My Pregnancy” however, as we know, things don’t always turn out how we hope, do they? I began this series before we knew our baby was lost, and they represent so much joy and hope for 0ur family. These instalments from when I was still pregnant are as important to me as the miscarriage itself, and as such, I feel compelled to share them with you. Thank you for reading them x (more…)
Becoming a new mum is one of the most wonderful and yet most challenging times of a women’s life. The excitement. The joy. The new baby smell. Actually no, scrap that. Sometimes babies don’t smell that great… Let’s be honest, I mean they essentially smell like stale cheese for a couple of weeks, at least until they start opening their stinky baby hands once in a while to air them out. #Truth (more…)
Do you ever have those days where parenting is just too hard? Or when you want to stay in bed, in your pyjama’s (or out of them… wink wink nudge n-nope who am I kidding I’m way too tired for that lol), and just brain fade away into zombie-rest-ville watching Netflix on the couch? Yes? Oh good, me too. Like, every-single-day-me-too. (more…)
So this week I’m writing about something that I don’t normally write about with such grumpy focus. And that is my four-year-old son. Lately I have been writing quite a bit about my daughter. I have been documenting her crazy tiny antics in a monthly diary – Diary Of A Crazy Baby (click here to read all of the instalments). And that meant I had been ignoring what would actually be an epic saga titled “Why Are Four Year Olds So Crazy”. (more…)
You know when you get to that point – when you are so close to two years old that you start forgetting what “month” you are up to? Yerrrrp, that is me right now. I keep forgetting how old my baby is. She is errrrrm… something years old. Or… um… she is … um… getting older months old. Yes. That’s it. Oooh, sorry, I honestly don’t know anymore. *throws hands confusedly into the air*. (more…)
Today I want to talk about two things. They may sound unrelated, but I promise you they totally are. I want to talk about body confidence and boys nudie runs. When I was growing up I remember how the local boys at parties used to get around, be silly, and do nudie runs. Oh what bogans, I thought, without realising at the time that I was a bit of a Queen Bogan myself. (more…)
* DON’T LET THE BLOODY CHICKENS OUT FFS! *
We were recently at the stunning home of @metta_is_betta , helping out on the soon to be released new episode of @the_lulu_show (HAVE YOU SEEN AN EPISODE YET?! 🙌🏻) She had recently installed a chicken coop on her property and the squawky, feather covered ladies that inhabited the coop were SO interesting to the five year old boy child of mine,
That he could barely take his eyes off them. 🐓
So much so that at one point my friend cautiously said to my son whilst OBVIOUSLY READING THE HECK OUT OF HIS MIND, “please don’t let the chickens out of the coop while we are filming”. Which naturally meant that his frustration-inducing-five-year-old brain translated her request to mean “Oh yes, go ahead let them out to peck at my ankles, why don’t you”. So he looked me straight in the eye and slowly lifted the latch to the coop, about to let those feathery egg-shitters out to live their best life roaming the land and playing metorphorical “chicken” with Lulu herself.
Time slowed right down.
And I leaped Superman-style (WHICH WITHOUT A SPORTS BRA WAS NO MEAN FEAT) over a man-made playground and a bunch of logs to throw the latch back down and keep those feather brains contained the way that the bloody coop creators had intended.
Gawd it was beautiful. I should have been in the Olympics. And I may have pulled a hammy. But lock those bloody chickens in there, I did.
You’re welcome everyone. 😂
Has your child been told NOT to do something and then specifically gone ahead to try and do anyway? Share below!
Oh, and swipe across to see the boy trying his darndest to get in the coop (FFS) 🤦🏻♀️😂
* STOP PUNCHING ME IN THE FACE PLEASE *
This kid. Oh my fruit looping gawd. I have a hitter on my hands. 🤦🏻♀️
Yep, now that she is two and a half she has grown wildly whacky... And by “whacky”, I mean that she loves waving her arms about when she is feeling rage and punching me square in my mum-shaped face. 👊🏻
Sigh, I shouldn’t label her. I really shouldn’t. Because it doesn’t happen all the time... But when she is feeling those huge AF feelings, those tiny fists fly and I am the one that cops it. In the actual chin. 🤭
Sometimes when she is like that I just hold her until SHE calms down (channeling my inner @chrissiechaostocalm), sometimes I have to just put her down and walk away until I can calm down MYSELF, and sometimes (I’m sorry to admit), I totally howl at her with rage... Which always makes me feel such mum-guilt afterwards. 😭
But no matter what, when we are back to feeling “normal” again afterwards, I always sit with her and hold her, reassure her of how much I love her, and I always explain why she can’t hit me and how it makes me feel when she does. 😔
I’m not gonna lie, it can be bloody hard to take sometimes, but she is such a sweet, kind and loving human generally and these outbursts do not reflect who she is. .
Let’s just hope she is more love-y and less punchy tomorrow. .
Who has had the occasional little hitter on their hands? How do you deal with it? Please share below ❤️
Word 👊🏻 .
Ps - if you actually get the chance to lay down for a bit over the course of tomorrow, why don’t you treat your ears at the same time to the dulcet tones of... (omg)... my voice! 🤭
Yep, tune into the latest ep of the very clever and funny podcast @yourpodcastpresent - “Create. Share. Repeat” where I chatted with the super brilliant @mickrussell_ and our gorgeous and inspiring host @leahnmcc about all things creative. ❤️ Not only do you get to hear me babble about random artsy things while getting intensely over excited at the same time, but you may or may not even hear me whack the microphone with my wildly gesturing hands at some point (or at...um...3 points). Lucky you. 😳😂😭 #DontSitTheGirlWithItalianHeritageNearAMicrophoneWithAStand🤦🏻♀️ So, head over to Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to your favourite podcasts and check out the episode, and then come back here and tell me if you could hear me hitting the microphone or whispering “for fucks sakes” at any stage in the recording... 😂
And... you’re welcome in advance 😂
* HOW DARE YOU?!! *
Today The Hairy Husband was so mad at our son for being a turd-burger #AnnoyinglyTrueStory that he banned him from watching TV for the ENTIRETY of next week. 📺
Mind you, this came on the back of ANOTHER punishment last night where my son was grounded for the next week, like a 15 year old sassy pants, ALSO for being a total ratbag. 🤭 #HeIsTurningUsIntoRageMachines
My son cried. And I WANTED to cry. “What is the meaning of this?” I whispered to my husband through gritted teeth whilst our son wandered through the house, wailing about how unfair life was. “Don’t you know you are actually PUNISHING ME with this no TV business?!” I asked.
The husband looked at me blank faced. He didn’t get it. At all. “How am I supposed to use the TV to entertain my kids when I am so tired I can barely wipe my own arse let alone theirs?!” I growled. “Now he is going to be even worse tomorrow when you’re not home, you know that right?!” 🤦🏻♀️ He, like the stony faced non-giver-in-er he is, didn’t care about my plight AT ALL. “It’s for his benefit” he whispered back. “So he can learn how to stop being a total shit-nose”. I rolled my eyes in response. It was all I could do.
Great, I thought. Now all of our lives are ruined for the week. Sigh.
And so the TV-less week begins. FML. Wish me luck. 🤭🧟♀️😭 Have you had to ban the TV from your house to try and turn your kids back into nice people again? And did it actually work? Share below xx
* COZ ITS BAD BOYS FOR LIFE *
The face you make when you find out that you and your bestie are enrolled in the same primary school. ☝🏻❤️🙌🏻 #badboysforlife #WatchOutGradePrepHereTheyCome
So, we enrolled our son to his future school last week. His “home away from home” for the next 7 years. We paid the deposit. We got the free t-shirt (seriously). And I may or may not have cried a little bit. #UglyCriedInFact
It’s such a strange feeling- that it’s finally happening. That school is beginning. And that they are growing up and away from us.
I don’t know how I feel about it actually. Excited that he is starting his new chapter. Excited that he is turning into an independent and clever little human. Sad that he will no longer need us. Sad that there will be a huge part of his life that we will not even remotely be a part of.
And if I feel like this now, imagine what a blithering mess I’ll be when school actually starts next year... *Sigh*. But grow up he must. And let go I must. That’s what parenting is about right? Ill just hold him a little bit longer until school starts if you don’t mind. Or until he learns how to swear at me in multiple languages. Whatever comes first. 😳
How did you feel in the leadup to your little one starting school? Share below xx
* PUT THAT SHIT DOWN ! *
Oh my fucking gawd. What is it about kids and picking random shit up left in creepy parks by strangers? 🤷🏻♀️ So, sometimes after a long day at Kinder we go to the park next door with The Boy’s favourite little Kinder friends. Lucky for me, one of his bestie’s has a PE teacher for a dad so he chases them around the park while I stand there and laugh about how I don’t have to do a single thing to help because he has the energy of 4000 people and I have the energy of a half kicked cat. #truestory💯
Once the kids have exhausted themselves (or more accurately, PE dad has worn them the frick down) they sit down and dig.
And I’m cool with that, because I’m such a cool mum. #saysme
I don’t care if they get dirt on their clothes. Or if it gets under their nails. I just want them to be free and explore life like all kids should. Right?
But they always find something bloody gross when they dig. Like a half eaten sandwich. Dribbly-licked cigarette butts. Vom. Or a gawd knows how old Up-And-Go drink, that one of our tiny friends may or may not have drunk even though it wasn’t theirs and it had been sitting there for heck-knows-how-long 🤢 #HupGonnaSpew🤢
It takes every inch of me not to scream “Drop that filthy thing before you get rabies!” every time, so I don’t blow my cool mum cover...
But it’s so funny. What I find gross... to those kids, it’s like finding treasure. Bloody disgusting treasure, but treasure all the same. Weirdo’s.
And although I still hope they don’t get rabies, I love that they find excitement in the smallest things ❤️ Do your kids find excitement in gross things like mine? ❤️❤️
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